


Rhapsody In Re-Education

by EruditExperimenter, ZeNami



Category: Welcome to Desert Bluffs - Fandom, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Abduction, Blood, Brainwashing, Drug Use, Eye Horror, Gore, Hallucinations, Kidnapping, Medical Procedures, Mind Control, Needles, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Poison, Poisoning, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Restraints, Torture, body control, mouth horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 02:26:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2252385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EruditExperimenter/pseuds/EruditExperimenter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeNami/pseuds/ZeNami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Re-Education of one's multiple is always best done with a song in one's heart and a smile on one's face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Aren’t you a handsome devil?” 

Off roading, even using the appropriate vehicle to venture off into the desert, made for a rather rough trip to the site of the supposed supernatural phenomenon. Reports concerning colonies of sentient fireflies attempting to blink out Morse code were too enticing to pass up, though.Seeing as the last time that happened, the town was warned of an attack by giant bats that descended from the sky from a fleet of polka dotted zeppelins, most were eager to see if the luminous insects had news of any upcoming threats, Luciano included.

That had all, however, been a lie.

Upon his arrival, Luciano found that the fireflies in question were just as absent as the team of scientists expected to meet him there.Instead, he was greeted with StrexCorp security officers who promptly swept a bag over his head and sedated him with a compound whose after affects left his thoughts and stomach in knots upon waking.The lights in the room where he returned to consciousness were overly bright, the floor tilted drunkenly, and the walls were an eye-gouging shade of yellow that only served to make the black-suited figure before him stand out in sharper relief.

The suited man smiled, a merry glint in his eye.

“Although I’d expect no less.” 

It was so bright. 

Luciano was instantly blinded the moment the bag was removed, dislodging his glasses which had been pinching painfully into the bridge of his nose. He shut his eyes tightly with a grimace, the harsh light adding a headache to the pre-existing nausea and disorientation, and he swore under a gasped breath, tipping his head down until his stubbled chin touched the lapel of his lab coat. How could he have been so stupid? His curiosity had gotten the better of him, that was all—that company had tricked him, and now he was… where was he?

The voice addressing him had him opening his dark brown eyes, slowly, squinting as they adjusted; it sounded goldenrod, laced with deep red plumes, like ink in water. The face that slowly sharpened in front of him was… 

He stared, despite the painfully bright environment, his breathing nervous, shallow. It was like looking in a mirror. Some kind of strange, just slightly different mirror that couldn't possibly exist. The compliment was lost on him, somewhere between his confusion and apprehension.

"Who are you?" he asked, voice cracking in his desert-dry throat. "What’s this…?" 

“How rude of me.”

The man standing before Luciano gave him a smile equal parts contrite and sardonic before kneeling to better meet the eyes of the captive seated on a hard, plastic chair.Given time to adjust to the light, Luciano could see it was the only piece of furniture in the room.

“My name is Sergio Vega.I’m the head of the Re-Education Department here at StrexCorp.You know, I heard about you and some of the experiments and research projects you’ve been doing and I said to myself, ‘Why, I really must meet this clever fellow.This clever fellow with his experiments and publications; the one so keen on the phenomena occurring around the town with an eye on StrexCorp’s activities.He is just ever so _perceptive_.’The fact that you’re one of my multiples really only sharpens my interest.So, here we are!It’s so very nice to meet you in the flesh, Luciano." 

Sergio drawled the syllables of the scientist’s name out as if he were tasting them, the look in his eye nothing short of predatory.

Luciano found himself wishing he didn’t feel so sore and sluggish right now—what had they done to him to get him into this state? He was in no condition to get up. His arms felt heavier than lead. Even through his glasses, everything seemed a bit fuzzy and distant, and it wasn't just the smudges left from being pressed to his face. His ears were ringing, faintly. Maybe it was the light. This… Sergio. He was so stark against it. It made it impossible to focus on anything else.

He was here because of his prying. Of course—it clicked together in his head like the most simple of jigsaw puzzles. StrexCorp. They didn’t like what he was doing, rifling through their business in his off-hours, especially since he was starting to realize that their benevolent, sunny exterior didn’t quite match their intent. A spike of fear struck him suddenly as he realized he was in deeper than he wanted to be. And his... multiple? A double of some kind? That would explain the funhouse mirror sensation. It was unnerving. This whole place was fascinating and interesting and unnerving. He hated it already.

Luciano grimaced, biting at his lower lip, his heavy brow furrowed. He was intimidated, but he did his best to square his shoulders, lifting his head to look Sergio in the eye. His head swam. “Well, you met me, Sergio Vega. _Now_ what?”

“Now?”  Sergio’s smile broadened.  “I would like very much to get to know you better, Luciano.”  

Reaching forward, he ran his fingertips through the other’s hair, working out a few tangles as he spoke before braiding it deftly.  

“I really want to know what’s _on your mind_.”

Breaking eye contact with his multiple, the StrexCorp re-educator glanced up at the guards flanking the captive, giving them a nod.Each took out what appeared to be a modified gas mask, donning them, Sergio sitting back on his heels briefly to take out a similar, if more stream-lined, device.It looked like the sort of gas mask a fashion designer might come up with; small, collapsable, and lightweight.Without any preamble, Sergio produced a spray canister, depressed the dispenser on its top, and misted a cloud of something grey and odorless into Luciano’s face.

“Are you familiar with the concept of nano-machines?” he queried in a conversational tone, voice surprisingly intelligible even through the apparatus obscuring his mouth.

Luciano craned his head away from Sergio’s hands instinctively, frowning in distaste and confusion at being touched by unfamiliar, bare hands—and then there were dexterous fingers working his loose, curly hair into a braid, and he was too surprised to say anything about it.

He didn’t have much time to think about it, anyway. This Sergio obviously had something of a game plan in mind, and he wasn’t pausing to take notes between the steps; one thing to the next. The bespectacled scientist felt his nerves jump at the sight of the masks, a myriad of questions surfacing that he knew would receive no answers… or, at least, no answers he wanted. He was alone in this. He had never felt quite so alone in anything, despite his decision to come out to this bizarre metropolis unaccompanied.

Even though his venture into thought was brief, Luciano was still caught off-guard by the spray. He squeezed his eyes shut and coughed instinctively, squeezing his nails into his palms. He felt a prickling sensation in his face, in his throat, his nose—unsure if it was real or imagined, just visceral—and shuddered, blinking rapidly. Some kind of... 

“…Yes,” he breathed, knowing whatever Sergio had just done to him, he could do nothing to help it as his skin continued to crawl.

“Impossibly tiny little machines.  Baby brother’s quite good with things of this nature; he’s been working with this on and off for a few months now.  You know, when he puts his mind to it, Diego can be so very clever.  I really must find a way to bring out that focus more.  Ah, but that’s another can of worms entirely.  In any case, you’ve inhaled enough of them for our purposes, and every resource they could need to self-replicate can be found in your body.”

While Luciano couldn’t see Sergio’s mouth, the re-educator’s smile had reached his eyes, which twinkled malevolently behind the mask’s goggles as he re-pocketed the spray canister.  Above the little group, a few grates had opened with an increased mechanical hum similar to an air conditioner switching on; likely air scrubbers working overtime to clear out whatever residual volume of the aforementioned machines might still be floating around the room.  

“They’re going to help us get to know each other better.  Isn’t that nice?  Presently they’re making their way into your peripheral and central nervous systems where they’re going to start setting up shop.  Around the base of your spine, they’re going to insinuate themselves and from there, create a network that will give me the access I need so we can really…”

Reaching out with a single extended index finger, he tapped the center of Luciano’s forehead for emphasis.

“…make some beautiful music together.”

Luciano was torn for a brief moment between his fear and fascination- on the one hand, the nano-machines were extremely interesting on a scientific level, and the notion that such a technology could be implemented like this was amazing. On the other, the knowledge that there were microscopic machines currently making themselves at home in his nervous system like some kind of parasitic hive-mind was… well. His nausea hadn’t left him yet.

He shut his eyes behind his glasses at that finger tap, trying one more time to ground himself, thick brow furrowed, taking a deep breath. He was terrified, yes. But being brave was about being frightened half to death, and still staring that fear in the face with a squared jaw. What was the point of being afraid of the unknown? He’d dedicated his life to studying it. Being afraid of it wouldn’t make any sense.

And _yet_. 

He opened his dark eyes—a deep, warm maroon brown—watching Sergio’s face; his expression was somewhat stony, somewhat accusing. “Music,” he repeated, licking his dry lips. “Something tells me that what you have in mind isn’t really my taste.”

“Oh, you never know.You are my multiple, after all.We may have some tastes and interests that run in the same direction.” 

Getting to his feet and straightening his suit, the re-educator observed Luciano with a soft, thoughtful hum.

“Do you have anything you may need to put in order back at home?Care for pets or what have you?You may find yourself somewhat occupied in the next few days…weeks…months…I can’t really say as I’ve never worked with you before.Honestly, I’m rather excited to see how you’re going to do with all of this.It’s always so interesting to care for my multiples; see where our differences and similarities are.Really, it’s quite a good exercise in reflection and self-revelation.You can learn so much by stepping outside of yourself.”

Luciano was really beginning to see the gravity of his situation. StrexCorp wasn’t just trying to scare him—they were trying to… he wasn’t sure. Something worse. But he knew he was going to leave this place changed somehow, or he was going to leave in a body bag. His research—his own research—was very important to him… and now that he’d seen the darker side of the corporation, he regretted not minding his own damn business. Curiosity, as they said, killed the cat. He didn’t want to lose everything he'd worked for. He didn’t want to give up. But…

"I’m guessing that if I tell you I’ll keep to my own research and stop investigating your company if you let me go, it won’t make a difference," Luciano said quietly, trying to use his shoulder to nudge his glasses back up his nose where they had slid in his nervous sweat. "If you really are anything like me, you’re not going to let go of an opportunity like this. You can call it self-revelation or whatever you like, but it’s a phenomenon that merits attention. You, me, these other… multiples. _Convenient_ it gets me out of your company’s way, isn’t it." 

He didn’t want to give them information they could use against the people close to him… so he made no requests, staring up at Sergio intently. His hands were shaking.

Seeing the other struggling, Sergio calmly extended a hand and pushed Luciano’s spectacles up his nose, settling them securely in place. 

“Soon, your work will no longer exist outside of this building.We’ve confiscated your physical and electronic records and are in the process of tracking down any and all copies you have sent to other people.We’ll have all of it, I anticipate, within the next twenty-four hours or so.I have no fear of you leaving this building.If you wish to go and get your things in order, it’s all the same to me.Whether or not I let you go is irrelevant.If I want you back, you’ll come when I call you.”

Stated in a matter of fact tone, Sergio’s calm gaze never left Luciano’s; every line of his body relaxed and assured.  Drawing a hand over the other man’s head, he continued, “Everything you are, were, and ever will be is contained within the confines of your skull.  And soon, StrexCorp will be in there, as well.  Your small warmth joins our great warmth.  Your everything is our Everything.  We are you.”

The lingering nausea was not kind.

Luciano had never felt such a weight in his chest. Such indescribable dread. Sergio’s words did nothing to calm him, despite the nature of their delivery. They stuck in his head, coiling around his frantic thoughts, a reverberation endlessly jarring between his temples. How had he gotten himself here? How had he worked himself into a corner so fast?

Thinking of his records—his research papers, his books, probably all of his computers—gone and unattainable, swept away just like that… it made him sick. That they could hide everything so easily, that they could confine everything to his head. Maybe that was why it felt so heavy now; the sole repository of unspoken truths that would never leave these walls. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to look as resigned as he felt. He didn’t have much time. He had to… he didn’t know. He had to do _something._

"I’m going home," he said, wishing his tight throat didn’t betray him.

“Of course.”

The air scrubbers quieted, Sergio removing his mask, nodding for his colleagues to do the same.With a pneumatic hiss, the door behind Luciano slid open, the suited StrexCorp employee gesturing to the exit with a smile.

“Please, feel free.Feel free for as long as you are able.You may not be able to soon, so you’ll want to relish it while you can.I will see you again, Luciano, very soon.”

Luciano rose to his feet slowly; he wavered unsteadily for a moment, pressing his palm to his aching temple with a grimace. He had to… he had to get home. He had to fix this. He could fix this, he was—he wasn’t helpless. He _couldn’t_ be helpless.

So why did he feel like he was grasping at straws while drowning?

He said nothing, instead giving Sergio a half-hearted glare before turning away from him while trying not to stumble, pulling his lab coat more firmly around his shoulders, as if it could protect him from this—from some terrible Smiling God, who had suddenly turned their solar gaze on a very tired, very small, very unfortunate man.


	2. Chapter 2

The music came for him in the night.

An unseen pianist wound notes through Luciano’s dreams, dividing them between black and white keys to dislodge them from his mind, sending them trembling down nerves strung out like wires; reverberations fading to draw him into consciousness.  As diaphanous nighttime visions faded, however, the music not only persisted, but directed.

 _Come here, Luciano.  Come_ **_home_ ** _._

Luciano’s eyes flickered open in the dim light of the lamp on his desk, where he had fallen asleep on his forearm, glasses pushed into his mussed hairline. It was still braided.

He rose from his seat without thinking, groggy and sore; there was music. Sweet music… For a moment, he glanced across the room at the old upright piano, shoved against the wall of his ransacked home. His computers were gone; most of his books were gone. His journals were gone. His equipment, his notebooks… everything. There wasn’t much left of him here, really, except the signs that he’d been frantically pacing and upturning his own space hours prior, desperation driving him past the point of logic and order.

He slid his lab coat on over his grey button-down—out of habit—and went to the piano first. The notes he could hear were beautiful. Maybe even alluring, in their soft golds and violets that spun silk through his mind. But they weren’t coming from the old wood and the felted hammers he was familiar with. Somewhere else… Luciano reached out, touching the worn keys fondly. He brushed the ivory with his fingertips, as if saying goodbye—he did it with a sense of finality, and maybe despair. He knew why he felt the need to leave. He knew where he would to go. And he hated that he hadn’t been clever or fast enough to stop this from happening.

He left his phone on the desk, emptied of its contents, a voicemail sent to a number somewhere in Los Angeles. A message telling someone not to worry.

It didn’t take him long to find his way back to the place he was called to in the dark—it felt like someone had drawn a map on the inside of his skull, scraped into the bone with a fine pick. He followed it like a marionette, scratching at his temple, unable to so much as drag his feet in protest. He felt sick. He was scared. Exhausted. But he was _compelled_ , and the music pulled him along. It pulled him home.

As Luciano approached the StrexCorp facility, the doors and other barriers which would have normally barred him from entrance flew open like magic.  Whatever else they might have been up to in his body, the nano machines seemed to have granted him an invisible skeleton key.  At the very least, one for the doors and hallways that would lead him to wherever he was meant to go.   

All he had to do, really, was follow the music.  

[ _Für Elise_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_mVW8tgGY_w).It didn’t echo in the halls; it echoed in Luciano’s mind and only grew in volume as he made his way deeper into StrexCorp.Before long, the scientist found himself in the research and development part of the facility, at the top of a spiral staircase, the railing of which felt oddly warm and soft.It was reminiscent of leather; thick leather stretched over a person’s limb.As for the stairs themselves, he couldn’t quite chase the feeling that they flexed beneath his feet ever so slightly.Whatever time he may have had to reflect on these things, however, was cut short, as he descended into the room below.  

If he had any notion about the spiral staircase being something more than metal, wood, or some other more conventional material, there was little ambiguity about the utilization of biomechanics in the chamber itself.The walls had odd striations, skin stretched over organic structures that emerged now and again between screens and other monitoring equipment set into them.There were a number of tables and cabinets all of which seemed to move not on wheels, but instead, many delicate, flexing legs not unlike those of centipedes or other insects.In the center of the room was a large operating table over which was situated a light that looked not unlike an enormous eye hanging from the ceiling on a twisted, fibrous tendon, gelatinous interior luminous from within to cast a light about the room faintly shadowed with what were undoubtedly a network of blood vessels.

But the centerpiece was undoubtedly the piano.

While its legs and lower construction were made of flesh, bone and sinew, the grand piano’s interior workings were revealed through a clear construct and casing; every note being played was visible.Little hammers appearing to be made of bone struck tendon and ligament piano wires.And the keys - no.Not keys.The _teeth_ …over which the player’s fingers danced still grew from the construct itself.It appeared connected to its surroundings equally by organic filaments and conventional cables and wires.If he watched long enough, Luciano could see fluid of some kind moving around through the instrument’s crystal clear upper construction.Appearing lost in the composition, it was not until Luciano was standing beside the operating table that the piano’s player looked up in greeting.

“You see?” Sergio said with a congenial smile.“You’ll come when I call you.”

Luciano’s heart couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to jump into his throat or sink into the bottom of his stomach.

It was probably a good thing that he was so exhausted—it seemed to be keeping him from panicking, or, at least, it kept him from showing it outwardly. He seemed strangely calm despite the terror thrumming under his dark skin like an electric current, making his hands shake, even when he put one palm delicately down on the operating table. For a distracted moment he glanced around, weary eyes taking in the architectural horror that was this place he had come to… until his line of sight came to rest on Sergio and the piano.

His knees felt weak. Something in him—maybe a microscopic parasite—said he was going to be here for quite some time. He was going to be here, in this chimerical, nightmarish lab, for a long time. 

He nodded vaguely, disheartened by the reminder that he had failed to stop this from happening. He would come when he was called. And he had. The notes that had drawn him in still lingered around the edges of his mind, sweet and soothing. A siren’s call, he thought. Sergio had made him climb the stairs to his own undoing.

"Beethoven," he said, his tone bitter, almost scathing. He glowered at his multiple, fingers curling at his side, sweat holding strands of dark and greying hair to his temples. “ _Classic_.”

“Do you like it?One of my very favorites, actually, although I do enjoy so many others.”

As he spoke, the man played through little snippets of this and that; _[Butterfly Etude](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VRIS5ABtQbM), [Anitras Dans](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h7GDt44sgag)_ , a troubling scrap of [_Glorification de l’élue_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tmaYNgVR1ck) that melted eerily into [_Maple Leaf Rag_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P1894JRqbsc).Still grinning, his fingers began rattling off a cheery rendition of, [_Put On A Happy Face_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-s4KTe4Czo).

“Divinia adored [_Bye, Bye, Birdie_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_CE7GqqrvY) when she was younger.I swear, she could watch it over and over again all day and never get tired of it.That’s children for you, I suppose.I confess I have quite a fondness for it myself, though.Especially this song.Don’t you?Do you happen to know the words?”

Clearing his throat lightly, the re-educator began to sing along to his playing, but it was at that point that something was becoming clear to Luciano.While the wires within the piano were certainly being struck and Sergio was definitely playing, the music created sounded only in the scientist’s head; no where else.  

“ _Pick out a pleasant outlook; Stick out that noble chin; Wipe off the ‘full of doubt’ look; Slap on a happy grin!; And spread sunshine all over the place; Just put on a happy face_!”

Looking over his shoulder to the newly arrived scientist, Sergio affected a mock look of distress.

“Luciano, you certainly don’t look very happy.I wonder…what are we going to do about that?”

 _What_ , indeed?

Luciano began to scratch at his hairline in irritation, mussing his loose curls, his dark eyes fixated on the piano—he had, in fact, begun to recognize the cognitive dissonance brought on by hearing the music, but not _feeling_ it in the tiny bones of his inner ear. Like having an earworm, but almost literally. It bothered him. It fascinated him—and he probably would have been far more keen on the science behind it if he weren’t the unwilling human trial.

Someone else, maybe. But not _him_.

Sergio’s choice of song had him nettled and squinting. StrexCorp and their smiling faces. Luciano was a fairly serious man, and he didn’t take to the whole branding scheme very well at all. Especially not now, as he was beginning to understand what they were capable of… not only that, but what they were already doing. With a knit brow, he dug and raked with his fingernails harder at his scalp—as if trying to scratch the upbeat tune in his head—until he finally started patting down his lab coat pockets, looking for something.

His cigarettes—they were always in his coat, as well as a little black lighter. Luciano set one to his lips, flicking the lighter twice before catching the end with an orange ember, and he inhaled the nicotine-rich smoke with closed eyes as he put his back to the table. He let it settle deeply into his lungs for a moment before sighing out a pale cloud, not looking at Sergio, and trying not to look around at the nightmarishly organic lab. The cigarette hung from his trembling fingers, arms loosely crossed.

"You could start by not making me listen to _that_ ," he muttered.

“Aren’t we _sour_.”

Sergio smirked, reaching over to flip a few switches on the piano before pressing a fingertip down on the lowest key.  

The note reverberated through the air this time, as well as in Luciano’s skull, but now there was a flash of color that accompanied the sound along with a visceral reaction in the pit of his stomach.The deep red of arterial blood punctuated with patches of indigo danced through his head as the note faded out, his vision temporarily eclipsed by the phenomena as something fluttered, butterfly-like, in his belly.

“We’ll just have to put a smile on that face.Although, first, let’s get rid of that cigarette.Filthy habit, smoking.”

Fiddling with a few more settings on the piano, Sergio ran a fingertip up the length of the keyboard, and Luciano’s world burst like a firework.On one level, he could hear the liquid ripple of the notes rattling off in rapid succession, overlapping one another in cascading octaves, but when his nerves sang along, they delivered quite a different experience.Every color on the spectrum, even ones he had never known existed, flashed across his mind in response to every note played.His stomach contorted as odors assailed his olfactory senses; savory, sweet, sour, rotting, fresh, briny, floral - too many too rapidly to separate and identify all of them.Pain and pleasure jostled through his vertebrae, strange flashes of memories clanging along with every vibration.When it all faded, Luciano found himself laid out on the floor, Sergio looking down at him, the glint in his eye positively carnivorous.He flicked the cigarette out of Luciano’s fingers with the tip of his shoe before grinding it out with the heel.For half a moment, the sensory-addled scientist could swear he smelt singing flesh from the floor where the cigarette was being extinguished.

“Although addiction is always _interesting_.”

Luciano wasn’t exactly sure when he had _started_ or _stopped_ screaming; he wasn’t sure when he’d ended up on the floor, though the throbbing pain in his knees indicated that it hadn’t been a graceful transition. His free hand was clutched tightly to his head, tangled in his mussed hair—and even with his eyes screwed tightly shut behind his glasses, he could still see rolling hues, like hot oil on water, glistening on the surface of his cornea. His mouth hung open, caught halfway between frozen shock and uneven, rasping breaths; the taste of cigarette smoke on his tongue was drowned out by his own overloaded senses, the piano hammers and wires still reverberating in his head.

He let himself roll from his side to his back, head lolling to the right, his eyes opening almost reluctantly to look up at Sergio. The motion dragged his lab coat across the floor. Even now, the edges of his vision crawled with colour, much more vivid than what the synesthese was used to, mimicking the prickling sensations in his limbs of phantom pains and ghost touches he wasn’t even sure were real. He grimaced at the loss of his cigarette, even if the smell of it made him crinkle his nose in distaste; his fingers scratched absently the the floor near Sergio’s foot.

“I hate you,” he groaned finally—a few shades weaker than he wanted his voice to be, but he couldn’t do much to help it. His chest rose and fell in staggered huffs. He could still taste burning protein… the smell of singed hair. Fascinated. Terrified.

“That won’t do at all.We’re going to be working together!We should get along!Come now, let’s get you cheered up.”

While the world was still tilting drunkenly around him, Luciano could swear the table nearby which he had collapsed was lowering itself on unseen joints, obliging its piano-playing master as he rolled his subject onto its surface.There was a brief, dizzying sensation as the table righted itself to its proper height, and what felt like fingers gripped around Luciano’s wrists, ankles and waist.Above him, the eyeball still glared down, luminous, dangling from some organic construct, rimming Sergio’s outline in its vessel-shot light.Adjusting the dials of a remote in one of his hands, the re-educator caused the piano to resume playing, this time a soothing sensation washing over Luciano in successive waves.His muscles began to relax involuntarily, a dreaminess overtaking him.From somewhere above, a mirror swiveled out on an apparatus obscured by the light and dark playing over the scientist.In it, he could see his face plainly, watch as gloved hands holding a scalpel came into the frame of the reflective surface.Such long fingers.Piano fingers.

“ _Grey skies are gonna clear up; Put on a happy face!_ Mm.Let’s do that now, shall we?Let’s put on your happy face.”

The music picked up again, rollicking, though Luciano felt only euphoria as the scalpel traced gleeful, bleeding arcs from the edges of his mouth toward the sides of his face.

“ _Take off that gloomy mask of tragedy; It’s not your style; You’ll look so good that you’ll be glad; Ya’ decided to smile!_ ”

The wounds wept claret for a moment as the hands pulled away from the frame, Luciano staring up to see his face cut open; flashes of teeth, sinew and bone never meant to be exposed in such a manner.But any panic he might have felt was tamped down by the pleasure floating in pastel clouds throughout his body; sweet little kisses that stole his anxiety away.Returning soon afterward, the hands carried a little canister, not unlike the one he remembered, distantly, used on him before to introduce the nano machines into his body.Another breath of vapor hissed over him from the canister’s nozzle, temporarily obscuring the view of his face in the mirror.When it cleared, the blood on his cheeks was dried, the skin that had been cut open was once again sealed.However, there were two pale, unmistakable scars that ran from the edges of his mouth to his upper cheekbones; face separated into upper and lower halves by a crescent moon grin.

“ _Just put on a happy face!"_

Luciano was certain he would never forget this; the looming eye, glaring down a hot light into his dizzy, dreamy stare. The shadow of his multiple cast stark against the organic illumination… the artificial bliss that flowed through him, slowly calming his staggered gasping into deep, easy breaths. He knew something was wrong—terribly wrong—but he couldn’t muster the fear, the panic that should have been there. His eyelids were heavy. It was as if he were watching himself not only in the mirror, but through a second-hand haze. Almost an out of body experience.

And he watched. He listened. The piano’s melody caressed his anxious nerves, making him sigh as his fingers uncurled from his palms, relaxing into his restraints. 

When the scalpel bit into the soft flesh of his cheek, he didn’t even flinch. He felt the pull, the pressure, but the pain was so far away. So distant. So unimportant. The rivulets of his own blood were beautiful—the way they slid down the angle of his jaw, trickling from the exposed sinews, bone and tissue he had never seen so clearly before. Had he ever seen himself so plainly? So perfectly….? 

His eyes flickered shut in response to the mist, and when they opened, he saw his face. 

He saw the _scars_.

The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile, but he couldn’t quite muster it through the dried blood and muffled, tremulous horror squeezing his heart. He felt something wet trickle past his ear. And it was then, and only then, that Luciano realized he was crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork created by and used with permission of lepetiteselkie.tumblr.com  
> Luciano Silva belongs to ZeNami, their character's Tumblr at: smilingindoctrinator.tumblr.com  
> Sergio Vega belongs to me, EruditExperimenter, and the character's Tumblr account is: eruditexperimenter.tumblr.com  
> Diego belongs to videntefernandez, whose Tumblr account is: videntefernandez.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

“I meant it when I said you could leave if you like.”

Sergio sipped his coffee idly, eyes not lifting from the daily reports he was reviewing while speaking to Luciano.

“I understand you may have matters to care for at home, and I don’t wish to keep you from your responsibilities and community ties.If I need you, I’ll let you know.You needn’t worry about your face; there won’t be any infection and the skin has healed well.It won’t split open or cause you pain with typical use; eating, talking, smiling.”

Looking up to meet Luciano’s eyes, the re-educator offered a smile of his own.

“It’s no good to be cooped up inside all the time.You should go out and get a little fresh air and sunshine.”

Luciano stared at Sergio from where he stood, hands curled loosely at his sides, with eyes that seemed darker than they had been when he had first been called.

The scars, still fresh, stood out starkly against his dark complexion and graze of stubble, pale lines imitating and mocking a smile that did not find his lips. He had been avoiding his reflection adamantly for some time, self-conscious, not wanting to think about it. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been thinking; Luciano may have been bound to this place by the microscopic biomechanical guests in his blood, but he was not out of his own head. He was still intelligent—he was still clever. And he had been thoroughly considering his options.

He made a concerted effort to soften the glower in his expression, rubbing at the bridge of his nose until his heavy brow relaxed; he set his glasses back on and sighed, loosely crossing his arms. He had thrown away his old lab coat, unable to stand wearing the torn and filthy thing anymore. Unsanitary. Uncomfortable. And yet, he felt bare without it, in only his grey button-down and black undershirt. His silver-touched hair was still pulled into that braid.

“Then I’ll stick to the grounds,” he said finally, “should I need the air. I’m not going to perpetuate a lie to myself, Sergio. You’re going to call me back—and besides, all my work is here now. My work is all I have. Everything else is just… things.”

“I like that about you, Luciano,” Sergio chuckled, handing off his coffee cup to an assistant materializing at his side as if obeying a silent summons.“You’re a practical man.Sentiment has its time and place, of course.The nano machines will grant you access to some parts of the facility - certainly the basic necessities, although you’ll understand if there are pieces which are meant to remain inaccessible.Perhaps we’ll grant you greater freedom once you’ve successfully completed your therapy.You’re doing very well so far.”

He had half expected Luciano to bolt out of the facility if given the mere ghost a chance.Evidently a night’s sleep had calmed him or else the inevitable had been accepted.His captive, however, was a cagey man and it was hardly out of the question that this was all pantomime.It made no difference, of course.The scientist wasn’t going anywhere as long as Sergio had a direct connection to his nervous system.Even in the highly unlikely event that he somehow could circumvent the hold the re-educator had on him, Luciano could be retrieved easily enough.No one ever really got away.If he disappeared, never to be heard from again, Luciano, with his scars and the piano notes ringing between his thoughts and dreams, would never truly escape this place.

Truth be told, Luciano wanted Sergio to believe he was winning. He wanted his multiple to think that he was coming around quicker than expected—that way he wouldn’t have as much difficulty stretching his legs, and earning the wiggle room he needed to get himself out of this mess. He was smart enough. He just had to be patient, and test his openings slowly, without slipping the rest of the way down the slope into the smiling sun that threatened to swallow him whole.

And then again, even if he couldn’t get out, perhaps he could find some way to bite back at the man who had woven piano wire between his synapses and permanently disfigured his face. Luciano was not a man who was above vindictive action.

He was itching for a cigarette, but he resisted the urge to slip the case out of his pocket in front of Sergio. He was running out, and making them last was getting harder—the last thing he needed was to have it snatched out of his hand for no reason. Instead, he took a stabilizing breath, shifting his weight so he stood evenly on both feet, trying to ground himself. He wondered how far he could push his luck. He didn’t want to appear /too/ complacent, after all. There was a balance of credibility to maintain.

“I need a new lab coat,” he said, looking Sergio in the eye while scratching at his square jaw. “A clean one.”

“Of course.”

Sergio gestured for Luciano to follow him.

“If you have any need for personal hygiene items or access to showering and grooming facilities, I can show you where those are, as well.  We have a number of people who prefer living on site, so we always provide for our residents.”

Luciano was led down the hallways at a relaxed pace, Sergio nodding now and again to employees that they passed.  Before long the pair were in the area of the facility dedicated to scientific studies, the re-educator pointing out a closet filled with PPE and other necessities, including lab coats.

“There is a company store on site you can visit for personal items.  If there’s anything else you might require, you need only to ask me.  The company security has been alerted to your presence and knows that they’re to report directly to me with matters concerning you, whatever they may be.  You will be looked after.”

Patting the fellow on the back and flashing him an avuncular smile, Sergio raised his brows.

“Anything else, Luciano?”

Luciano followed quietly, making an effort to remember where he walked; he took note of the signs beside the doors, the directories on the walls, avoiding eye contact with most of the staff they passed. Despite his reluctance, his eyes did brighten a little at the mention of an opportunity to clean up, and he absently bit his lower lip—he could have literally killed someone right now for ten minutes in a hot shower. In fact, the thought was accompanied by a _surprisingly_ vibrant image of stabbing Sergio in the back of the neck with a scalpel, right now, soaking his fingers in hot blood just so he could have the _satisfaction_ of washing it away like a bad dream.

He blinked that picture away, and the imagined red stains disappeared from the man’s shirt collar.

When directed to the correct closet, Luciano took the liberty of opening one of the doors and peering inside—he skimmed a searching hand through the row of long white coats and extracted one he thought would fit a man of his height, sliding it from the hanger. Sergio’s hand touched his back just as he noticed the StrexCorp logo boldly emblazoned on the back of the coat he held.

He smiled reflexively back at his double—almost a grimace, really, accentuating the scars—and pulled the coat on, letting it settle like a security blanket around his shoulders as he shook his head and rubbed his hands into the clean fabric. It still felt better, despite the details. “I can see myself around. Don’t let me keep you… no doubt I can find you if I need anything.”

“No doubt.”

Sergio gave Luciano an appraising look, a grin curling at the edges of his mouth, cat-like.

“It looks good on you,” he commented. “That shade of yellow compliments your complexion.”  Nodding once more, he met his subject’s eyes, voice velvet and venom.  “Be seeing you.”

And with that, the re-educator strode off to leave his scarred counterpart behind.

All around him, the nano-machine infused scientist saw StrexCorp scientists, sunny in yellow and white, filing in to begin their work for the day.  There was a certain familiarity in it - watching the teams go about their jobs, the clink of glassware, the whirr and hiss of instruments, the click of fingers on keyboards.  He was cast an occasional glance by the others present, but most appeared to recognize characteristics of the Strex Family evident on his features and steered clear.  There was, above all, an undeniable sense, like a prickle in the back of his skull, that he was being observed; a rat in a maze.

Luciano wished he had the peace of mind to take comfort in it—the flow of traffic in a lab environment, the gentle symphony of bubbling fluid and scratching pencils, the sensation of progress in the air—it reminded him of his work before he’d come to Desert Bluffs. But he was in no place to relax. Not with the feeling of a great, bright eye on him that reminded him all too well of the light over Sergio’s operating table.

Still. He was as alone as he was going to get. It was time to use that to the best of his ability, no matter how tempting it was to find those showers instead.

He found his appearance to be advantageous; no one seemed to question him or stop him as he stepped out into the halls, pulling on a pair of latex gloves he’d grabbed from a table inside the lab. He must have looked the part of one rather dazed and confused, anyway, the way he took slow steps, peered into doorways, and glanced too often at the signs and directions posted on the walls. Now, he just had to… what was it he needed to do, exactly? 

He needed to find information. Some kind of database. Somewhere he could dig his nails into an answer he could use, whether it was for himself or against his captors.

The facility included room after room of computers and other communications equipment.  What was accessible for use, however, appeared to be spotty, with only a select number of terminals and communications points available to him.  Information to which he had viewing privileges was nothing out of the ordinary - chiefly items that included step-by-steps, check lists, and flow charts helping employees with their day-to-day activities, maps of the facility, the company website, and various other pieces of the intranet that could be useful.  Pieces which he might have found more useful were denied to him via pass codes and other blocks within the system.  Clearly,  he was on a need-to-know basis and, thus far, the powers that be had deigned that there were sensitive items about which Luciano simply did not need to know.

“Are you lost sir?” a voice queried from nearby.

Luciano looked up from the screen at the sound of the voice, making an effort to wipe the frustrated expression from his face. A few too many password-blocked sections and dead ends for his liking… He curled his gloved fingers away from the keyboard, sighing, and shaking his head. “Not exactly,” he said, turning his head to look for the speaker.

He found himself looking into the face of a woman approaching middle age, dressed in a stylish suit of dark goldenrod, black hair swept into a French twist.  There was brief surprise in her expression as Luciano turned.  It was surmisable the the shock stemmed either from the plaited scientist’s resemblance to the Strex Family or the vivid scars standing out against his skin, but courtesy held the woman’s tongue, her features soon returning to neutrality before she offered the captive a warm smile.

“If you’re having trouble with something, maybe I could help you.  I’m Laurel.”

She peered briefly over his shoulder at the computer monitor as if trying to get a glimpse of what he’d been doing.

“Was there something you were looking for?”

Luciano was prepared to put on a happy face. For now. If it would get him what he needed.

He smiled, the curve of his lips falling into line with those stark scars, and he ever-so-casually leaned his weight to one side to block most of the screen. Not that he had been able to bring up anything particularly incriminating, but it was the principle of the thing. “Laurel. How _wonderful_ to meet you. I’m Luciano. I guess you could say I’m in the middle of a self-directed orientation—I’m going to be working for StrexCorp.”

He rolled his shoulders in a shrug, hands raised, his gloved palms up. “I’d absolutely _love_ to learn more about what the research team is doing here, so I have a better idea of how to apply my own work… but I can’t seem to find a good database… Sergio was quite _plain_ with his directions.” He inclined his head, a fingertip nudging his glasses up by the arm as he lied through his teeth. “I don’t suppose you could direct me to a slightly more thorough resource? I was told there was something of a records department but I think the _extended family_ was so busy that he neglected to give me a room number or even a keycard! These maps aren’t really helping.”

Laurel paled as she more closely scrutinized Luciano’s face.  It was hardly out of the question that he was being honest here; new members of the Family were popping up all the time.  

“Oh, I see!” she chirped, smiling.  “Well, I suppose I could show you where you might find what you need.  These are mainly access terminals to help people get around the facility or offer step-by-step instructions for normal protocols and procedures.  I don’t think you can use these to get what you’re after.”  

She tortured her lower lip briefly with teeth that were very white.

Ordinarily in a case like this, the person in question would be taken to the security desk and issued a keycard.  But would that do for this person?  Would he be insulted that someone like him would be treated like a common visitor?  Gears could be almost be heard turning in her head as standards, exceptions, and etiquette tangled together to render her paralyzed.  

“Sergio is likely to be very busy just now…would you be alright with me being your guide for this?”

Perhaps she’d be rewarded for looking after a member of the family.  That was an appealing thought; a chance to go above and beyond the call of duty and distinguish herself among her colleagues.  She offered Luciano an even broader, hopeful smile.

This was easier than he’d thought.

Luciano felt a surge of confidence in his fabrication, allowing his shoulders to relax. Maybe smiling really was an effective tool here. That, and Sergio had mentioned that he would be looked after. Of course they wouldn’t want to step on his toes, and therefore vicariously, his double’s. 

The scientist beamed, thumping a curled fist gently into his opposite palm with a false enthusiasm and a chuckle. “You know, I think that would be ideal,” he said, nodding. “I really don’t want to bother him. He just has so much to do. Thank you, Laurel, you’re outstanding. Lead the way, please.”

Clasping her hands eagerly before her, beaming, Laurel gave the other an enthusiastic nod, gesturing for him to follow along as she made her way deeper into the building.

“What area will you be looking into?” she queried.  “I want to get you to where you need to be as quickly and efficiently as possible.”

“I’m particularly interested in nano machines,” Luciano replied animately, gesturing with his thumb and index finger as if indicating something very small. How simple a lie it was to spin. The best lies, he knew, always contained a grain of the truth. “Specifically for biomedical applications. I am absolutely _giddy_ about the resources I’ll have available here, by the way. It’s a nice change from my little personal lab, you know. It was, ah… _modest_ ,” he added, with a grin and a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Oh, so you’ll be working with Diego, then?” Laurel commented brightly.  “How wonderful!  I know he can be in need of a little motivation sometimes, but he’s just brilliant with that sort of thing.”

With Laurel’s access, Luciano was granted entrance to areas that the nano machines threaded throughout his nervous system did not allow.  Ushered into a computer lab where a few employees were busily working on various projects, however, it was difficult not to notice a liberal sprinkling of security cameras throughout this part of the facility.  Were they more numerous than they had been in the general access areas, or was that simply the product of a nervous saboteur’s imagination playing tricks on him? 

Luciano blinked rapidly, trying to assuage his nerves. He really shouldn’t put so much stock into his imagination—not with the way it had been behaving, lately. Still, the sensation of being watched was perpetual, constant… _oppressive_.

Trying not to let his eyes linger on the cameras for too long, ignoring the uncomfortable turning in his stomach, he stepped a little closer to Laurel, rubbing his latex-coated fingertips against his thumbs in a nervous habit. “Not much further, is it? I hope I’m not going to get myself actually lost.”

Shaking her head, Laurel gestured to the computer lab’s array of terminals.  As he stepped toward them, Luciano could not help but note a coppery tang in the air.  Upon closer examination, he saw that the computers, not unlike the equipment in Sergio’s lab, were not merely inorganic, inanimate structures.  Rather, what he thought of as plastic appeared to be some sort of chitinous material, the insides of the computers emitting not just buzzes and whirrs, but gurgles and growls that no mere machine would ordinarily produce.  The characters on the keyboard pulsed an angry red, like blood close to the surface of skin surrounding an inflamed wound.

“Any of these should give you access to what you need.  I’m afraid I don’t have very high level access that you might require, but Sergio did give you the necessary passwords, yes?”

Luciano was distracted. The hardware was… disconcerting, to say the least. He was suddenly very glad he’d put on gloves.

“Of course,” he lied automatically, turning his head away from the organic machine to smile at the woman, trying not to let his nerves betray his expression. “Of _course_ he did. Thank you very much for your help, Laurel. I’ll be absolutely _sure_ to mention you by name when I speak with Sergio later.” He put his fingertips on the terminal, looking at her over his shoulder now with that scarred grin. “Don’t let me keep you!”

“You’ll only be able to go to areas of lower security access from here,” Laurel cautioned.  “But if this is all you need, I’m sure things will be fine.  It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Luciano.”  She blushed with pleasure at the thought of the accolades her help to the fellow might have earned her.  With enough points of note to her service, they might even allow her to keep a potted plant at her desk!  She had no intention of overstaying her welcome with the Strex Family member, however, and nodded briskly before turning to leave the lab.

Luciano nodded pleasantly, and then turned fully toward the terminal; his smile dissolved as he put Laurel from his mind, now alone, now fully focused on what he’d come here for. Dark eyes searched the screen as he got to work, fingertips dancing over the strangely sinuous keyboard with a pianist’s precision. If he couldn’t find what he needed here, he would just have to look for another access point. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to go far. 

Now what was the name of the man who had worked on those nano machines? Maybe that was the place to start. If he could get into his records…

 _Diego_ , he mouthed, starting a search.

There was information readily available on Diego’s company profile - his name, position, hierarchical rank, and a brief biography.  Evidently the man had been developed by the company; a genetically engineered person built with the express purpose of serving StrexCorp.  It was nothing overly personal; perhaps little more than what would be on a press release.  If the man was developed by Strex, however, it stood to reason more detailed files concerning him would be accessible to those with high enough security clearance.

Or those clever enough with computers to get around such securities.  

Luciano was both curious and clever.

He was a scientist—programming wasn’t exactly his focus, but he had designed much of his own testing software, so he wasn’t unfamiliar with a bit of tinkering. Heavy brow furrowed, he set to work worming his way into the background code of the terminal, seeing if he could bypass the search function’s restrictions and skim the database directly. There had to be more. The console’s angry red text reflected from the black screen into the lenses of his glasses; there would be a way around it…

Strangely, finding his way around wasn’t as difficult as he might have thought at the outset.  While it was still no mean feat, there was a certain familiarity with the way things were put together; almost as he would if given the task of creating such a thing.  Before too long, he came across files concerning not only Diego, but every member of the Strex Family with the exception of Ricardo.  Luciano’s piano-playing tormentor was listed right alongside his siblings.

Luciano eyed the list for a moment, taking in each name as he tapped his gloved index finger lightly on the keys; he knew he was supposed to be looking for information on the nano machines, but… he couldn’t resist the opportunity he’d laid out for himself. He was also beginning to suspect that one of his multiples had written this program. It would make sense, the way it felt natural to navigate, how it was put together the same way he would have done it. And if that was the case, he thought, as he tapped down to highlight Sergio’s name, then the moment he tried to go any further—the moment he hit enter to open this file—it would ask for a password.

Sure enough, Luciano was denied access without a password.  Sergio’s profile picture stared up at him impassively from the screen.  The room felt suddenly alive with eyes.  If he looked up, though Luciano could spy the other workers busily typing away at their own terminals, he felt as if they were staring with secret eyes at his transgression.  The lights above glared, the keyboard keys glowered up at him, the security cameras fixed him with their collective, unblinking gaze.

They all seemed to have one reproachful, warning inquiry in their look.

_Do you really want to do this?_

Bad enough, little rat, that you’re skulking about where you oughtn’t be in the first place.  Do you really want to be caught with your paw in the cookie jar?

Luciano felt a bead of sweat he hadn’t noticed before trickling from his grey temple as he stared at the blinking cursor. His throat was tight; his hands were stiff. They were watching him. They were all watching him. They were watching with those eyes, so many eyes on him, and the light was bright. It was so bright, and _red_ , and _glaring_ —

 _It’s in your head, Luc_ , he told himself, trying to snap out of it. _It’s in your head_.

He swallowed, trying to force his hands to stop shaking, trying to focus. If his multiple had written this program, doubtless he could make a very educated guess on the password. He craned his head back, sighing, staring up at the ceiling. The walls were so yellow. That glaring, golden, _grinning yellow_ …

He froze, a tune starting up in his head. And for once, it wasn’t Sergio’s piano. It was from a piece of music he very much loved.

The _red_ light of the screen _spun_ in the glass of his lenses as he looked down, fingers firing a single word into the console.

_Masquerade._

It worked like a charm.

Instantly, Luciano had cart blanche to everything in the file.Some of it seemed fairly mundane; medical records, works of note undertaken by Ricardo’s heir, items pertaining to re-education—

Wait.

Upon opening the documents, Luciano was granted access to what appeared to be information concerning a much younger Sergio; the items were more than fifteen years old.There were snippets of school records, photos that appeared to be taken from a family album or candidly made when the subject in question, a boy perhaps no older than twenty, was clearly unaware of the photographer.Journal entries, family trees, statistics, aptitude test results, therapy methods, medical timelines, drug regimens…

This wasn’t documentation of re-education performed _by_ Sergio.This was documentation of re-education performed _on_ Sergio.

Luciano’s pride at having accessed this information was instantly overshadowed by a disturbed shock. 

This was… he didn’t even know what to think. And yet, why wouldn’t it be just as it was? Sergio, brought into this place and molded, twisted by it, re-created for it. Just as the man was now trying to do to him… Luciano shook his head, not so much in denial, but in nauseated horror. 

He needed to keep this information. He didn’t know yet what he would do with it, but he could consider that later. This was important. This mattered. It put things into a perspective that he hadn’t considered before. He took a quick look across the terminals, and spotted a red and yellow USB drive sticking out of the next one over, in the keyboard; he snatched it for himself and plugged it into the terminal he was working from, starting to copy everything so he could look at it later in greater detail. What impact would this have if the right—or wrong—people got a hold of it?

Either way, he felt those _eyes_ , boring down on him. He had unmasked something he should not have seen. And he was frightened.

And that was when the pneumatic hiss of opening doors and the trudge of purposeful footsteps began to echo through the hallways; growing louder with every passing moment.  A few of the employees in the lab froze in what they were doing, looking to the mottled, semi-transparent glass (or perhaps something more organic) doors beyond which hulking shadows could be seen moving briskly, inexorably toward them.  A murmur of distress began to rise, some frantically double checking their monitors as if making extra sure they’d been up to nothing untoward.  

One person, however, was giving Luciano a peculiar look.

“Sir?” the employee queried, eyes tracing over the scars standing out across Luciano’s face, brow knit with great anxiousness.

No, not anxiousness.

Concern.

“Are you new here?”

Oh, the eyes. They were coming for him. He knew.

Luciano grimaced, snapping out of his horrified daze as he realized the gravity of his situation. He needed to leave.

“I’m _not_ here,” he hissed lowly at the man who had addressed him—he didn’t have the time or concentration for the false pleasantries this time. He was already jerking the USB from the terminal with its valuable parcel of restricted content, pressing it into his palm securely and closing the windows he had open. Sergio had done an admirable job making him extremely recognizable—he knew the concerned employee was staring at his face. He needed to disappear before anyone else remembered to look around.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, Luciano moved swiftly to the back of the room—every door out of here seemed to bear a shadow of something coming. Trying to swallow his panic, he slipped into an unoccupied office, peering through the glass window at the room outside. He didn’t wait to see what was after him when he heard the doors open, turning frantically to look for somewhere to hide, or—

A vent. There was a vent on the ceiling, over the desk.

By the time the eyes found that office, Luciano was gone, leaving behind only dusty shoe prints on the chair cushion and a metal grate on the floor.

He wasn’t entirely sure how long he crawled on his stomach through that vent—at least it was clean, and not as dusty as he had expected. 

What he also didn’t expect as he moved awkwardly through the tight space—USB drive pressed hard into his curled hand—was a distinctly pleasant scent; it reminded him of peat moss, and lavender. Was it coming from one of the grates…? Curious, he pressed a hand to a grid where light flooded through, and he pushed it with his forearm until it came loose. The loud clatter of the fall did not come. Luciano realized it must have landed on something soft.

Humid air billowed up around him from the exit he’d created, along with the earthy fragrances of green, growing things, soil, and water.  Looking out, he could see the vent was not too far off the ground - even better, below him was a soft-looking patch of well-tended moss dotted with dainty lavender flowers.  But the greenery didn’t end there.  While his eyes needed a moment to adjust from the darkness in the vent to the brightness outside, once they did, he found the world awash in color.  It felt as though, living in the desert for so long, his eyes had developed a thirst for verdant landscapes that was now quenched.  There were galaxies of flowers in colors Luciano would never have imagined possible.  Vivid crimsons, lush violets, velvety blues, and greens that ran from chartreuse to pine.  Gem-like butterflies and hummingbirds flitted to and fro amid the blooms, fuzzy bees crawled over lawns of clover.  Flagstone paths bordered islands of greenery, arbors created tunnels from delicate branches and flowering vines, streams and rills threaded their ways through the landscape, chuckling quietly to themselves as a fountain babbled away somewhere unseen.  If he looked up, Luciano could see that the whole of this place was enclosed in glass; a massive greenhouse.

Luciano forgot all about fear and the possibility that he was being followed in favour of staring in awe.

He climbed to his feet, drawing in a breath of air that felt so good he could have sworn it wasn’t real; what was this place? An entire greenhouse, somewhere inside the facility…? He looked up at the glass ceiling, squinting at the sunlight pouring through, showering the vivid plant life with golden light. He thought of the terrariums he used to keep in his lab—some for fun, some experimental, some self-contained ecosystems and all—but they paled miserably in comparison to this.

The dark-eyed scientist took a step forward, and then another, surprised at how pleasant it felt to walk on soil and stone, and not a hard tile floor. There was something so disarming about this place. He felt… calm. Almost serene. It was so beautiful here. He almost couldn’t understand how something like this could exist within the confines of StrexCorp. He walked leisurely underneath an archway of hanging purple wisterias, removing his gloves so he could touch the lush, broad leaves of a hosta that had grown to a tremendous size; he then looked up, realizing he had come into something of a small clearing, and the smell of fresh earth tickled his nose.

As he made his way through the greenhouse, Luciano could note that, while not all of them, many of the plants growing in this place were toxic; kaleidoscopic bevies of blossoms and inviting berries carrying the secret promise of poison.  The juxtaposition was a bit unnerving.  As he came to the clearing, he could see that there are a few areas of earth were being tilled; a small gathering of seedlings and sprouts set out ready to be planted.  Crouched before a patch of overturned soil was a figure who, even kneeling, maintained a level of dignity in his immaculate posture.  It seemed almost voyeuristic seeing the man in anything but a suit and tie, but even dressed in jeans with a yellow button-up whose sleeves were pushed up past his elbows, the lines of Sergio’s body communicated a predatory presence.  

_Oh, no._

Luciano paused, going completely still, as if afraid the mere motion of the air disrupted by his own body would alert the man ahead of him of his presence. He was… he was not supposed to be in here. This was an obvious indication of that fact—to see Sergio so unguarded set off possibly even more alarms in his head than the stark memory of his silhouette in front of the operating light. He took a slow step back, fully intending to find some other path out. 

The dry twig fallen from the archway, caught between Luciano’s dust-smeared shoe and the stepping stone, went unnoticed.

_Snap._

He stopped breathing completely, wide-eyed, his pulse suddenly hammering in his ears.

The reaction was instantaneous; snake-like in its rapidity.

Sergio spun around, jerking upward to his feet in the same motion from his place of rest to see who or what had caused the disturbance.  Laying eyes on Luciano, the color drained from his face, eyes wide, jaw briefly slack in mute stupefaction.  For a moment, what he was looking at didn’t even appear to register; the man utterly aghast by Luciano’s presence.  Slowly, however, comprehension began to seep in around the edges, and as it did, Sergio’s jaw set, the lines of his body relaxed, and his dark, narrowing eyes came alight with murder.  When he spoke, his voice was a knife being drawn from a sheath of silk; each syllable clear, soft, and savage.

“It appears I have made a grievous error in allowing you your measure of freedom; however brief and borrowed it might have been.  It seems I must rectify this mistake.”

Sergio’s reaction was so sudden that Luciano jerked in surprise—he didn’t notice the data stick slip from his grip, nor did he notice where it landed, somewhere in the thick leaves of the plant life near his feet, disappearing from sight. He was too busy lifting his hands in front of him, palms out, in a placating gesture.

“No, no, no.” His voice cracked and he wanted to curse it, taking a fearful step back. The look in his double’s eyes terrified him, and he knew there was nowhere left to run now. “Sergio, I—“ What could he say? That it was an accident? It was! But the chain of events that had led him here were no twist of fate. A lie could only bend so far. 

Luciano shook his head, his breathing shallow. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I didn’t know. I’m _sorry_.”

Sergio said nothing, lip curling briefly into a disgusted sneer before he approached his multiple with the inexorability of a falcon descending on some defenseless rodent.  As Sergio closed the distance between them, Luciano could see the muscles in his double’s jaw working; a brief flash of white teeth as he hastened his step.  There was nothing stiff about his motions, nothing rushed about the approach he made; there was only certainty.  No question of Luciano’s fate could be found in the frame of the re-educator’s face.  Grim inevitability suffused every fiber of his being, anger radiating out from him not in unpredictable gouts of flame  and sparks, but in the steady intensity of a red-hot coal.

If Luciano had been able to find his legs, he might have run. He might have run until he was exhausted; he might have preferred to poison himself with the help of some of the flora he’d passed on his way to escape what was coming. But under the searing heat of Sergio’s silent fury, he felt himself paralyzed. His feet were heavy, his throat threatening to close up as the panic took him, his frantic pulse making him dizzy. 

He managed only a couple of staggering steps backward, slowly letting his hands fall. Was it all for nothing? Had he wasted his chance so quickly?

Sergio’s hand snapped out like a viper striking, catching hold of the front of Luciano’s shirt and drawing his face in close.  Something cracked as his multiple’s jaw shifted; as if something was being broken between Sergio’s teeth.  Inhaling sharply through his nose, the sadistic pianist breathed out again through his mouth in a steady stream; a noxious cloud of some sickly violet gas engulfing Luciano’s head, its fragrance like a floral clamor.  Breathing in, the substance coated the interior of the subject’s nose, mouth, and throat; a brief burning sensation that accompanied it fading with merciful rapidity as Sergio released his hold and stepped backward.  Residual vapor streamed from between the re-educator’s lips like smoke from the mouth of a dragon, the man watching Luciano expectantly.

The numbness moved from the head down.  It felt a bit like the head rush one might get from standing up too quickly, only there was no prickling white at the edges of Luciano’s vision; his perception quite clear.  His body, though, was another matter altogether.  His throat went numb, then his limbs became lost to him, the scientist collapsing onto the green turf like a rag doll.  While he was unable to move his body, however, Luciano’s eyes remained under his control, and he could watch easily enough as Sergio came into view, standing over his subject with the murderous intention in his eyes gone from fiery to frigid.

“Please enjoy the view,” he suggested in a courteous tone edged with venom.  “It’s going to be the last time you see the sun in a very long while.  Pardon me, will you?  I need to ready your new room, and wouldn’t you know it?  I feel possessed of a musical mood, all of a sudden.”

Stepping over Luciano’s body, the scarred scientist could only listen to Sergio’s footsteps as they faded out of ear shot; disappearing entirely after the sound of a door closing.  When one is awaiting something dreaded, time can find ways of warping and stretching itself out in grotesque fashion.  So it was then, with what was likely little more than ten minutes bloated into what felt like hours.  But, eventually, the piano notes returned, and when they did, Luciano jolted upward involuntarily; a clumsy, puppet-like motion.  His head snapped forward hard, though he felt no discomfort.  He felt nothing at all.  His limbs were hollow; his skin a thing separate from himself.  There was little time to think on it, though, before he found himself climbing, unfeeling, to his feet, and walking with all the grace of a newborn calf toward the greenhouse exit, a passenger trapped within his own body.

The marionette of a man watched his own feet with dull eyes, literally consumed by his own helplessness. He should have been faster… he should have been smarter. He should have lied better. But he hadn’t. He’d let his only chance slip through his numb fingers, the only fruit of his efforts planted somewhere in a garden he would probably never see again.

And somewhere in the mess of mounting dread and despair, between his strangely distant panic and regret, he foolishly thought of how badly he wanted a cigarette.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork created by and used with permission of lepetiteselkie.tumblr.com  
> Luciano Silva belongs to ZeNami, their character's Tumblr at: smilingindoctrinator.tumblr.com  
> Sergio Vega belongs to me, EruditExperimenter, and the character's Tumblr account is: eruditexperimenter.tumblr.com  
> Diego belongs to videntefernandez, whose Tumblr account is: videntefernandez.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

“Hm.  I wasn’t expecting that.  Interesting development.”

It was the first real human contact Luciano had had since being swallowed up by the darkness.  He’d been someplace soft, green, and living.  Someplace secret and kaleidoscopic with color and light.  It was, however, not a place he was ever meant to be.  He had thoughtlessly invaded this private Eden; despoiled it.  And so, it only followed that he would be punished for it.  It was only natural - cause and effect.  The bite from the snake turned him into a puppet before feeding him to the dark; marched him right into the open and waiting jaws of a void on marionette strings made of piano wire.  Time had been lost to him since then.  At some point he had changed back into a man, but it was unclear what other transformations he might have undergone in the dark at this juncture.  There were periods of sensation roiling beneath the skin like a tempestuous sea - dreams and visions that came to him on black and white keys.  It was feast or famine - the numb nothing of the lightless world that was now his or galaxies built in the confines of his skull along the notes of a piano composition.

So strange; he could almost feel his fingers moving along with the music.

Now and again, the maw had snapped open, faceless entities delivering food and drink.  He had known better than the refuse after the first few times; resistance only resulting in the sustenance being forced down his gullet.  When the light from the opening jaws rent the dark asunder, the disturbance so different than the visions that could take him away from all of this, there were no faceless entities with food and drink.  It was the snake.  He looked like a man, but his face was nothing to fool Luciano.

Soft, long-fingered hands cradled Luciano’s face, tilted it upward for examination.

Piano fingers.

“Your eyes have gone completely black.  Fascinating.  Perhaps it’s a side effect of the nano machines.  Hm.  Well.  Something to consider.  How are you feeling, Luciano?”

Those beetle-black eyes blinked slowly from a rough, scarred visage. Those fingers were almost too gentle for the state he was in. It confused him. It boiled and simmered and turned his scattered thoughts and emotions as he seemed to fumble for the correct response. The nicotine withdrawal had not been kind, either.  It had become so hard to focus, so hard to think. He was… angry. Lonely. He was tired. No, _exhausted_. 

But at the core, he was afraid.

On his knees, he tipped his head back just a little more; he looked up at the snake, at the shadow with the voice he recognized. His fingers curled against his thighs until his fingernails—overgrown and stained with dry blood—bit into the calloused and damaged skin of his hands. They were rough from where he had been scratching at the edges of the door, sometimes at the walls, when the music in his head grew frantic and loud, and sent him into that blind panic he had learned to dread.

How was he _feeling_?

 _Was_ he feeling? Did he remember how to feel by himself, without ebony and ivory notes carrying him up and down the staff of his own synapses?

Everything was black, and white, and muddled, ugly _grey_.

He opened his mouth to speak, jerking his head down and away from those fingers, the tips of white teeth catching the light from the door. He still had a voice, even if his throat was raw. He didn’t remember why it was like that. He didn’t remember a lot of things.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a cigarette, would you?” he said finally, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

“In fact, I do.  While I don’t approve of the habit, I thought you might be craving one after all this time,” Sergio replied, taking out a small, golden cigarette case from his pocket and giving it a gentle shake before offering it to the bloody-handed fellow.  “Here you are.  It should be your brand.”

Looking Luciano over as he came into the light, Sergio tsk’d lightly, readying a lighter for the man.

“You poor thing.  You’ve really been through a great deal, haven’t you?” he cooed, holding out the flame for his guest.  “Well, don’t worry, Luciano.  We’re going to get you all fixed up.  I imagine you’re all but dying for a hot shower at this point, eh?  And we’ll have some salve on those fingers to heal them as well as a nice, nourishing meal.  How does that sound?”

Luciano walked almost like he wasn’t used to his own legs anymore; when he stepped out of the dark that had been his familiar and silent cloak for so long, the light _hurt_ him. It scorched into his sensitive retinas like a cleansing fire. He shut his eyes tightly for a few seconds, very slowly allowing them to crack open to ink-black slits as he fumbled for a cigarette from the case in his aching hands.

He set one to the flicker of the lighter, inhaling deeply, a drowning man gasping. The hit of nicotine washed through him and instantly made him dizzy—he whimpered, muttering something thickly in Spanish, smoke pluming through his fingers as he shakily took another drag. It felt awful. It felt fantastic. He didn’t know anymore. He’d been torn between numb silence and roaring sensation too many times in that room. 

Why had he been in there, anyway…? He didn’t remember.

What Sergio offered him, then… it was too good to be true. Distantly, Luciano wished the look he gave his multiple then was less pathetic and desperate, but he was sort of past pride at this point. It sounded so wonderful. It sounded like heaven. He wanted to soak in that hot shower, until all the sweat, and filth, and every last sickening thought was burned from him. Left behind him, like that dark place. He wanted to stay in the light. The light of a brilliant, smiling sun…

“You mean it,” he breathed, his throat suddenly tight, voice strained as if on the edge of tears. “Please. That sounds _so good_. I’m so _tired_ , Sergio, I…”

Favoring the other with a sympathetic smile, Sergio squeezed Luciano’s shoulder reassuringly.

“You’re out of the dark now, so don’t fear.  I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you now that you’re with me.”

Hearing the tears in his voice, the re-educator drew his subject into a hug, taking care not to be burned by the cigarette; wiry arms solid and real, heartbeat steady and untroubled.

“You’re safe, Luciano, and I am going to look after you.  I will always be here to look after you.  Come with me - let’s go someplace nicer.  You can finish your cigarette there, then we can get you cleaned up.”

Sergio waited a beat before pulling back, giving the other a smile as if he was a child upset over accidentally breaking a plate or spilling a glass of juice.  Holding Luciano’s mangled hand tenderly in his own, Sergio led the other out of the area dedicated to holding cells, bringing him up into the hallways above.  Other employees streamed past the pair, a few giving them lingering glances, wrinkling their noses at Luciano’s cigarette.  Everyone around the abducted scientist was smartly dressed, clean, and fresh.  While it was impossible to judge time in the belly of the darkness, looking around now it was clear the day was just beginning for StrexCorp’s workforce.  Having been locked away without adequate supplies to maintain his personal hygiene, Luciano’s presence among them made him feel like a beetle suspended in a gelatin mold; a noxious weed sprouting up in the middle of a flower bed.  Somehow being guided along by his multiple made it worse; as if exemplifying just how far he’d fallen by standing side by side with his immaculately suited and booted carbon copy.  Before long, though, the crowds fell mercifully away, Luciano finding himself being guided into a spacious sun room where a table of glass and intricately wrought golden metal sat enshrouded by greenery.  Atop it was a small tea service, the scent of mint wafting up invitingly in soft coils of steam from fragile chinaware.  Fresh, morning air breathed gently in through opened windows near the top of the sunroom; unfiltered and untreated by any chemical processes.

All of it was so unsullied and spotless, while he was grimy, worn, and hollow.

“The tea should help with any stomach discomfort,” Sergio assured him, gesturing for Luciano to take a seat at the table.  “And if you can, try to eat some of the crackers and cookies.  My wife, Stella, made the gingersnaps herself.”

By the time Luciano took that seat, his rampant mysophobia was in full swing. He was disgusted with himself. He should not have been sitting at this clean table in the sun, being offered food and drink on good white china—he’d lost weight, his hands were filthy, his nails caked underneath with his own dry blood. His grey-streaked hair was hanging in greasy curls against the back of his neck, clinging to his temples in places; his face was a scruffy mess, his scars cutting from the corners of his mouth through dark facial hair that had grown a little past his preferred dusting of stubble. 

He couldn’t help but keep his line of sight down in shame, loathing his state. Loathing _himself_. He curled his fingers against his thighs, hesitant to touch the food when he was probably crawling with contaminants and foreign microbes invisible to his blackened eyes. He could feel it prickling across his skin, a visceral reaction to the thought. It made him wince.

But Sergio was being so kind to him. He was so understanding. Even like this, when he felt like nothing but a worm in the dirt, Sergio was willing to lead him by the hand to better places.

He started with the tea, trying not to stare at his own hands; touching the food was still too much. He just needed to calm down. The tea would help. He told himself the tea would help. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, spoiling his tea with honey to soothe his raw throat before taking the cup in trembling fingers to his lips. “I’m a mess. Touching the food would be very unsanitary… I-I shouldn’t even be…” His gloves. He missed his gloves…

“Where are my manners?  Forgive me - I’m being inconsiderate.  Please.”

Removing a bottle of hand sanitizer from his jacket and setting it before his guest, Sergio offered an apologetic smile.

“After we’re finished here, you can have a hot shower, we’ll get you cleaned and patched up.  Then we’ll get a more substantial meal in you if our medical team believes you can handle it.  Afterward…we’ll have a little discussion and let you get some rest.  I’ve arranged for your new bedroom and I just know you’ll find it much more pleasant than that awful place you’d been staying.  Crisp sheets, soft pillows, and warm blankets are just what you need.  If you like, I can even give you something for a deep, dreamless slumber.  Does that sound like something you’d enjoy, Luciano?”

As he spoke, the re-educator sanitized his own hands, poured himself some tea, taking it in the same manner as the abducted scientist, and picked up a gingersnap for himself, having a bite as if to encourage his guest to do the same.

Luciano capped the bottle after rubbing sanitizer thoroughly into his palms and between his fingers; there was nothing to do for the dried blood, for the time being, but it was better than nothing. That lingering nausea dissipated enough for him to feel more comfortable eating. His inherent sweet tooth probably helped, too, because the sweets laid out on the table were the most appetizing thing he’d laid eyes on in recent memory.

The exhausted scientist was halfway through a bite of a creme cookie when Sergio mentioned a bedroom; clean sheets, a soft and forgiving mattress… Luciano imagined it—collapsing face-first into warm cotton after a long shower—and his eyes almost watered all over again from the relief it brought. And a dreamless sleep? What a blessing that would be. He was so tired of being tired. He was so weary of being tormented by his own mind, which insisted on replaying ghastly images and chitinous sounds while he slept that were halfway between the vibration of low-pitch piano wires and the rattling of his own bones. Worse, maybe, were the distorted memories of capillary red at the edge of his vision, and his own face cut into a smile, flesh and bone raw and red in the round reflection of an overhead mirror.

He let loose a shaky sigh and nodded, pushing a few stray greying curls away from his eyes with his wrist, chasing the thought away with another soothing sip of tea. “… You’re too kind,” he managed finally, wishing he had it in him to smile.

“It’s the least I can do.  You’ve been through an ordeal, Luciano.  You deserve rest and relaxation.  We’ll have you back up to speed in no time, I’m sure.”

Finishing the gingersnap, Sergio contented himself with leisurely sips of tea, eyes never leaving the abducted scientist as he continued with his own plate of sweets.  The room warmed as the sun continued its climb into the sky; a green fragrance scenting the air from the plants that surrounded them.  Once the other appeared to be finishing his snack, Sergio set aside his cup and offered him a smile.

“Now, how about that shower?  I have a private room set aside for you with bathing facilities and a nice set of clothes all laid out.  Once you’re properly cleaned up and outfitted, we’ll just have our little chat.  There are some matters between us I believe should be addressed.  Closure is important, after all.  No good leaving things unfinished.”

Oh, that shower. Luciano wanted it so badly that he could almost feel it; he wanted to wash the grease out of his tangled hair, the blood from his fingernails… the contamination and filth from both his body and his mind. He wanted to feel like a clean slate, ready to be rewritten into something more deserving.

Deserving of what, exactly, he wasn’t yet sure. But he was so tired of feeling worthless. Some dignity would be nice.

The scarred and disheveled scientist set down his empty teacup with a sigh—feeling at least a touch better—and nodded, pitch black eyes flickering up to look at Sergio. The face of the snake that had snared him so viciously had softened into something gentle. Something comforting. Luciano felt he was safe, now… and that yes, they had some things to talk about. He knew that much. But first.

“That shower,” Luciano groaned softly, inclining his head to scratch at his jawline, “sounds like paradise.”

“I thought it might.”

Getting to his feet, Sergio came to Luciano’s side, giving him a nod.

“Follow me.”

Making their way to the area dedicated to living quarters within the StrexCorp facility involved far less exposure to the other workers.  Before long, Luciano was following the re-educator down hallways empty of anyone save themselves; only the steady click of their shoes upon the floor.  Presently, the pair stopped before a door, Sergio opening it to reveal an interior that was serviceable, if a touch spartan, with a bed, desk, chair, wardrobe, and window framed in cheery, yellow curtains.  A new outfit had been laid out for him; slacks, a button down shirt, shoes, tie, socks, a lab coat, and even a neatly folded pair of white gloves.  An opened door toward the back of the room revealed a small bathroom beyond, and all would have appeared ordinary were it not for the pair of figures flanking the bathroom door.

Two men, each dressed in robes of black, white, and yellow which appeared to be an approximation of those ordinarily worn by priests.  They turned, in unison, to look at Luciano, and smiled.

“These will be your attendants,” Sergio explained.  “They will help you to bathe and dress and make sure your every need is seen to until I am satisfied to your full recovery.”

Luciano paused, blinking those black eyes slowly as he took in this new information, looking from one robed man to the next.

Was that really necessary…? Luciano thought himself an independent man—or, at the very least, he felt displaying independence now would be good for him. Good for himself, to remind himself that he was strong enough to recover from what he’d been through. And yet. His limbs ached, his head hurt, and maybe not having to do every little thing for himself would be nice.

Besides, Sergio knew what was best, didn’t he? He was taking such good care of him right now.

"Thank you," he said finally, his voice edging on meekness as he pushed his mess of hair out of his face. He took a couple of cautious steps forward, looking over his shoulder. "I might be a while… that shower really needs to be long and scalding hot.”

“Of course it does.”

The attendants spoke in unison as they came to Luciano’s sides, extending gloved hands to him.

“We will see that you are looked after.  Cleanliness is godliness.  Godliness is perfection.  The Smiling God loves all who seek perfection.  We are of one heart.  One mind.  One perfection.  We are you.”

Sergio watched them as they laid hands on Luciano’s shoulders.  Being close to them gave Luciano an odd feeling, his thoughts buzzing lazily about in his head like bees through smoke.  

Their eyes.

Black sclera and yellow irises.  Seeing, knowing, everything revealed.  Nothing to hide; no _where_ to hide.  When his mind cleared again, he found himself in the bathroom, the door closed behind him, the Disciples delicately pulling him free from his clothing.  The shower hissed to life, steam beginning to warm the little room as one of the robed men pulled aside the curtain for Luciano.

“Just relax, Luciano.  You are close now; so very close.  It is to be chosen.  It is to be worthy.  It is to be a part of everything; a part of perfection.”

Were they speaking in unison, after all, or was it one voice coming through two throats?

For a moment, Luciano stared, as if trying to figure that out. Or maybe he was trying to wrap his foggy head around what they were saying. Was he really so close to perfection…?

That would be nice, he thought, as he stepped under the hot spray and reached to shut the curtain, letting the water hit him full in the face as he pushed his fingers through his soaking hair and sighed. It would be nice, to be perfect. For now, though, he just wanted to be clean. He let the hot water wash away the sweat, the grease, the grime, making his own dark skin bloom ruddy red where he scratched and scrubbed mercilessly until he felt he had taken away every last trace of the nightmare he’d been living.

If he’d been living at all. Maybe part of him had died in that room. Maybe he was being remade.

He minded less and less as the attendants hovered around him while he cleaned himself up; he took the time to shave, restoring his face to that shadow of dark facial hair he preferred, his scars stark against it. He let his clean, grey-streaked black curls air dry while he got dressed with their help, gentle, gloved hands fastening buttons and straightening his collar. It wasn’t until he was smoothing the lapels of the crisp, white lab coat in the wardrobe mirror, as he pulled those white gloves on, that one of the attendants handed him a small yellow ribbon—as if they knew he would ask for it—and he slowly, methodically braided his hair over his shoulder, tying it off neatly.

He’d grown fond of the braid. It looked nice. Maybe he would make it a habit.

Everything smelled ever so faintly of citrus; bergamot, yuzu, grapefruit.  Even his attendants seemed to radiate the fragrance.  If possible, the smiles of the Disciples grew even wider as Luciano braided his hair.  Each squeezed their gloved hands to Luciano’s gloved hands, nodding to the door.

“Let us go.  There is one final thing set before you and then you may sleep as you have never known sleep before.  Dreamless; untroubled.  You will wake completely anew in the light of a smile that never falters.”

The difference as they guided him back into the building proper was quite striking.  There were no looks of revulsion, but instead, reverence, awe, or fear.  Even when people were not looking at Luciano and his escort, they instinctively knew to step away, giving them a wide berth as they began to move back toward the re-education department. 

Back to the room.

Back to the Piano.

Luciano noticed something had changed in himself, too—something only he could feel.

He was not afraid anymore.

When had that come to be…? Walking through these halls, guided by the hands, he no longer felt small. He no longer felt weak, or repulsive… he was tired, yes. He was so tired, and he wanted to sleep. He needed to sleep. But he did not feel out of place. He felt that he belonged here. That these white halls and golden lights were something that he was meant to know as his home.

And even as he climbed the stairs back to the room—back to where he had been drawn at the very beginning by Beethoven’s harmonies, knowing full well this time where he was going—he was not afraid.

The hands released his, reached up and gently brushed fingertips down his cheeks on either side of his face, their gloved touch silk against his stubble.

“He awaits you below; father of a three-faced aspect.  Your song begins now.  Your note deepens our harmony.  You are loved.  You will always be loved.  And there is no greater expression of love than this.  To be made One.  To be made Everything.  To become a facet of perfection.”

His thoughts buzzed drunkenly in his head again, vision swimming, and when he came to his senses once more, Luciano found himself standing at the foot of the spiral staircase in the living laboratory.  The walls pulsed and breathed, the floor shifted subtly beneath his shoes, and a man sat at the piano on a bench, back turned to the abducted scientist.

“Luciano, are you familiar with Edvard Grieg?” Sergio queried.  The fingertips of one hand made a lazy progression over the keys, [the tune unmistakable](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TMhSY1uGo0Y) even after the first few notes.  With his free hand, the re-educator gently patted the space beside him on the bench, inviting Luciano to join in.

Something about Sergio’s goldenrod voice cleared last of the haze from Luciano’s head; he blinked once or twice, all but forgetting about the gloved touches to his face in favour of focusing on something he still very much loved, even after all of this. After everything.

Music.

"Yes," he said softly, coming forward toward the piano bench; there was a mild hesitation in him, especially when he caught sight of that suspended luminous eye over the operating table, the image testing the threads in his mind that kept sewn shut a seam into memories he did not want to dwell on. He focused instead on the piano—on the piece Sergio played. The corner of his mouth twitched. His senses swayed, ever so slightly.

"A Norwegian composer best known for the tune you just…" He sat down slowly on the bench, his lab coat spilling over the back, one foot sliding forward until he touched the pedal with his toes.

It was a little surreal, seeing his gloved fingers over the keys; it had been such a long time since he’d played. At least, it felt like a very long time. He thumbed the ivory without pressing down, feeling as though he were brushing the dendrites of his own nerve cells. It made him shiver, and his eyes flickered imperceptibly toward Sergio behind his glasses. Seeking reassurance, maybe.

Rather than the nerve rattling cacophony that he had been subjected to previously, each note Sergio played soothed or excited; dreams from cool water mingled with relief at coming indoors to a warm-bellied wood stove in the dead of winter.  It teased at other things the higher up the scale the notes rose.  Someone whispering into his ear; a shy, desirous glance from a radiant person across a crowded room.  

“Gold star,” Sergio commented at Luciano’s answer.  Briefly meeting his subject’s gaze with a reassuring grin, the StrexCorp scientist raised a second hand to join his first in playing; the tempo beginning to pick up to regular speed.  “ _In The Hall of the Mountain King._   Have you ever performed the piece before?  It’s something I rather enjoy playing as a duet.”  His dark eyes glowed with a meaningful glint before casting a glance at Luciano’s gloved hands.  “Would you be so kind as to indulge me for a bit?”

Any hesitation Luciano had left was gently soothed away by the piano’s resonant notes; he found himself feeling light, and warm, and calm. The smell of lilac carried on a warm wind, the sound of running water over smooth stones… touches and breaths of more that he knew was within his reach if he merely pressed his fingertips down into the keys.

"I know it," he said, watching Sergio’s hands for a moment. It was a piece he was quite familiar with. He used to have a little fun challenging himself to play it faster and faster…

He waited until the end of the bar, and then pressed the gloved fingers of both hands into a treble mimic of Sergio’s pattern, adding staccato accents with his right hand.

And his mind came alive.

Sergio’s grin broadened as Luciano joined him.

“Superb,” he purred over the notes.  “Take it at your own speed, Luciano.  Let it come naturally.”

Sergio slowly began to follow his guest’s lead, rather than set the pace himself.  The two portions of the piece intermingled and flowed together, the sensations complementing each other and weaving in and out like long, braided filaments through his nervous system.  

And it was all good.  It was all light and beauty filling him up, swirling in little eddies and streams to find find every hollow place and make it whole again.  Streams to rivers to sea to ocean!  Bright tides rose up to meet him, every wave carrying glad news, every current spinning him in its grin.

Faster and faster!

_Three is the number and the number is three!Three faces, three aspects, three to be whole!Three to be solid and real and here!Epiphany!_

 

_You get three as a magic number._

_The past and the present and the future,_

_Faith and hope and charity,_

_The heart and the brain and the body_

_Give you three._

_That’s a magic number._

_It is to be_ **_Chosen_ ** _.  It is to be_ **_Worthy_ ** _._

**_Faster and faster!_ **

 

Luciano’s senses, thoughts, memories, feelings were the keys and the wires and the notes all at once all for him all for good.

And he felt so good.

Luciano’s hands were his own, but they were possessed by the music, dancing over the keys faster and faster, playing the hammers and strings threaded into his own head; his mind reeled and spun and glowed, and the scarred pianist began to sway in his seat, the roaring rapids of bliss and ecstasy consuming him as the melody did. It coiled around him and through him until he was challenging Sergio to keep up, leaning into the heavy strokes of the notes, rolling—

—and he began to laugh. Quietly, at first, but with such a tremulous joy that it escalated with the pace of his playing—he laughed, and he grinned like he had never grinned before, such a beaming smile that came into line with the pale scars on his face, so overcome with happiness, with delight. _Smile, smile! Smile for your Smiling God, Luciano. Yes! You are_ ** _chosen_** _! You are_ ** _worthy_** _!_

He moved with such energy and verve that strands of his dark hair came loose over his forehead, but he didn’t care, his mind so full of golden light and and soaked in an unending euphoria that only grew stronger with every rushing note—until finally his hands crashed down in crescendo in a finale that would bring the house to their feet.

 _You are perfect_.

And as the music resonated inside his skull, even after it had faded from the thrumming walls and from his trembling hands, Luciano craned his head back and laughed.

Between his paroxysms of laughter, Luciano could hear the sound of applause from an audience of one.  It was so strange and yet completely natural that there was a smile in the sound of the clapping hands, Sergio watching his guest with a look not unlike that of a cat with its claws sunk into a particularly tuneful canary.

“Perfect.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luciano Silva belongs to ZeNami, their character's Tumblr at: smilingindoctrinator.tumblr.com  
> Sergio Vega belongs to me, EruditExperimenter, and the character's Tumblr account is: eruditexperimenter.tumblr.com  
> Diego belongs to videntefernandez, whose Tumblr account is: videntefernandez.tumblr.com  
> Three Is a Magic Number is from Schoolhouse Rock


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luciano Silva belongs to ZeNami, their character's Tumblr at: smilingindoctrinator.tumblr.com  
> Sergio Vega belongs to me, EruditExperimenter, and the character's Tumblr account is: eruditexperimenter.tumblr.com  
> Diego belongs to videntefernandez, whose Tumblr account is: videntefernandez.tumblr.com  
> I recommend listening to Piano Bar from Cowboy Bebop by Yoko Kanno for this epilogue

Epilogue

Lunch in the sunroom was a simple affair, but good.  Cucumber sandwiches, warm tarts of goat cheese, cranberries and bacon, green pea salad, fruit, and Arnold Palmers to drink.  While Sergio was still clearly monitoring Luciano’s progress, the re-educator was notably more relaxed as they conversed, his professional courtesy softened in the company of his perfected multiple.

The sleep had been everything Luciano was promised.  Deep, dark, dreamless.  It was the sort of sleep where you felt as though you’d only blinked; on one side of the blink the moon was high, the stars twinkling, and on the other side was sunlight and birdsong.  What had woken him was not an alarm or one of those exceptionally loud sunrises, but rather, [a rich and jazzy piano refrain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zp78kGMYTI8).

Not having left his side, watching over him with smiling benevolence, the Disciples stood at the end of his bed; eyes of ochre and jet looking on.  A glance at the clock hanging on the wall informed him, as accurately as a time piece existing in place where time was a lie could, that it was close to noon.

“You’re wanted in the sun room, whenever you are ready, Luciano,” the informed him in unison.  “Sergio his waiting for you there.  He is eager to see how you are fairing.”

And, from what Luciano could ascertain, his other could not have been more pleased.

Luciano felt better than he had ever felt, himself. Sitting across the table in the sun from Sergio, he looked healthy and content, his well-rested beetle black eyes bright; he was smiling comfortably, sitting forward with one elbow gently resting on the table, his ankle wrapped around the leg of his chair. The scarred scientist was perfectly at ease here—it was sure to become one of his favourite places.

One of his favourite parts of home.

"I haven’t slept that well in _ages_ ," he admitted, as he set half a tart down on his plate—he had taken his gloves off to eat, and they were sitting on the corner of the table, folded. His hands were clean, fingernails white, only bearing the faint, faded lines in his fingerprints where they had once been torn up. nothing but a distant memory, now. "Or _ever_ , I should think. I feel like an entirely new person. Isn’t that _wonderful_ , Sergio?” He chuckled. “A new person. A _better_ person.”

“The best person,” the re-educator replied, setting aside a tangerine rind he’d peeled away into a little spiral.  “Really, the improvement is so marked.  I’d never know you for the poor, addled fellow who’d stumbled in here only a few weeks ago.  Hm…or was it days?  Time is so tricky like that.  Whatever the case, I’m just so glad you’re happy and healthy.  But you did the important work, really.  Without your desire and dedication, why, we wouldn’t have gotten anywhere.”

Separating the little citrus fruit into segments, Sergio made a thoughtful humming noise.

“Do you like it here at StrexCorp, Luciano?  I’ve made arrangement for you to have your living quarters right here in the facility if that’s what you want.  I’m also wondering a bit about where it might be appropriate to place you so far as your job goes.  I’ve had a word with our career counselors, who have reviewed your aptitude files, and they have some ideas.  I have a few of my own, but I’d like to hear what you have to say concerning the matter first.  Is there anywhere in particular you think you’d be happy working?”

Luciano beamed at the praise, picking up his spoon; it tapped and scraped quietly against his plate as he helped himself to more of the salad, his eyes never leaving Sergio’s face to indicate he was very much paying attention. His expression settled into something thoughtful as he did, and he tapped the silverware gently against the edge of the china, smiling a warm smile.

"I think I’d really like to stay," he confirmed, nodding. There was almost no question in his mind. The thought of being able to keep his own space, right here, was a very pleasant one. "I would love a space to make my _own_. Something a little more _me_ , you know." He chuckled--he was thinking something a little less _modest_ than where he had slept last night; maybe nice black leather upholstery, and a glass coffee table. Maybe tall windows with a view of the city. Maybe his own pipe organ.

"As for… _professional_ prospects," he began, sitting up a bit with a sheepish smile. He set the spoon down and thumbed at his jaw. "I hope it’s not too forward of me, but I think what I would love _most_ would be to work in _your_ department. Not only out of gratitude, of course, but… from my knowledge and my experiences, I think I could best apply myself there.” He grinned, face alight. “If you would have me."

“Done,” Sergio said, placing a tiny citrus segment into his mouth and swallowing it like a pill.  “I was really hoping to hear you say that, actually.  Looking over things, I think Re-Education would be just the department for you. Consider the available living quarters and I’ll let you have your pick - don’t be afraid to choose something nice.  You are, after all, my multiple, and that comes with certain preferential treatment.”

Smiling lopsidedly, the re-educator gave Luciano a wink.

“Just don’t let anyone else know.”  Drumming his fingertips briefly on his chin, he raised a brow.  “Consider the laboratory with the piano yours.  I think it suits you and should have everything you need to do your job.  If there are further modifications you’d care to make, simply let me know and they’ll be done.  Re-Education is a delicate business and I won’t have you working in conditions that don’t suit your style of work.  It’s a very exciting department; so many different ways to get the job done.  So many innovations and a great deal of room for creativity.  You’ll love it, I’m sure.”

Luciano practically glowed, resting his chin on the back of his hand with a delighted smile. The lab was really his? He couldn’t believe it. He could think of a few things he would do to make it his own—a bit more stainless steel, new and more theatrical decor, for instance—but he could always talk to Sergio about that later. For now, he was content to beam in anticipation of permanently settling in here. Of contributing. Of being part of something greater than himself.

He couldn’t wait to really stretch his metaphorical wings, and see just what he could do when he had so, so much to work with. Everything he was—-it was still contained in his head, but he would _unlock_ it, _nurture_ it, and have it _grow_. He would develop his own style. He wanted nothing more.

"I don’t doubt I will," he chuckled, bringing his other hand up to thread his fingers underneath his jaw, giving Sergio a bit of a cheeky smirk. "I should expect nothing less, I think." He gave a quick wink back behind those silver frames, smirk widening into line with his scars. "Between you and I, It’d be a _pity_ to waste this face on a low-level labhand position and paltry accommodations, and we both know it.”

“Indeed.”  

Smiling, Sergio removed a gleaming, golden, triangular pin and offered it to his multiple.

“I suppose it’s official, then.  Welcome aboard, Luciano.  And…let’s do this again, shall we?  It’s important to take time for yourself, and it’s nice to spend a meal in such sparkling company.  What do you say - same time next week?”

"Absolutely," Luciano replied; he took the pin, looking down long enough to secure it to the lapel of his lab coat with a sense of pride. It looked good there. It looked right. It looked _perfect_.

He lifted his head, mirroring his multiple’s smile. “I look forward to it.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork created by and used with permission of lepetiteselkie.tumblr.com  
> Luciano Silva belongs to ZeNami, their character's Tumblr at: smilingindoctrinator.tumblr.com  
> Sergio Vega belongs to me, EruditExperimenter, and the character's Tumblr account is: eruditexperimenter.tumblr.com  
> Diego belongs to videntefernandez, whose Tumblr account is: videntefernandez.tumblr.com  
> Divina belongs to mistress-strex, whose Tumblr account is: mistress-strex.tumblr.com


End file.
